


princess

by ruruka



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Begging, Dominance, F/M, Masochism, Oral Sex, Whipping, princess kink? i guess i dont even fucking know please jjust let me die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 18:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7903426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruruka/pseuds/ruruka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i get my way all morning noon night and day- okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	princess

_blink_. lashes pad sweetly at her cheekbones. blink.

whip. lashes rain hellishly against his bared shoulders. _whip_.

that angel venom of a smile splits her heart-shaped face, and his ribs ache when they kiss her boot's toe. at least- he'd think, if he were capable -that the sharp agony distracts from those stinging his back, sides, neck.

togami byakuya has been an exceptionally bad boy this evening.

she coos like the hell-sent heathen she is, forces him into facing upward, and steps prompt on his face. because, she can't have him looking up her skirt; how crude.

"togami- _chaaan,"_ those grinning lips spill. the frayed end of her crop teases across his jaw. "togami-chan, why've you suddenly forgotten our golden rule?"

he can't reply, because there's a heel blocking his mouth. there's a fucking foot on his face, and he'd kill himself if he could. but he supposes ignoring her will make things worse- he knows from experience that whips and kicks are puerile in comparison to her capabilities.

so, he ignores her.

the scaling pressure of her step sends a spiderweb crackle up his left lens. if she's worried over impaling his retinas with glass, it doesn't show.

" _togami-chaaaaan,"_ and if he hears that whining caterwaul again, he'll rather it were glass to his eardrum than eyeball. then she pouts, in a way that casts not an ounce of dolor. it's the equivalent of crocodile tears- but enoshima junko's not a crocodile. she's worse. so, so much worse. "togami-chan! why're ignoring me, huh? don't love me anymore? oh- i could just cry, togami-chan! cry, cry, cry!"

and she does- feigns so, anyway. blubbering little _boohoohoos_ that light the wick on a firecracker of agitation, because he _can't fucking speak,_ and she _knows_ that and she grinds her heel so hard into his mouth that his lips part and his teeth make way lest they be splintered.

he's got enoshima junko's stiletto in his mouth, and he really, really wishes he had better taste in women.

the idle grazing across his jawline flips too abruptly to a bleeding crack to the cheek; his head jerks on instinct, slams his molars _hard_ against her stiff heel.

"i guess i'll remind you, since i'm _so_ gracious. i'm gracious, right, babydoll?" his nod is slight enough to play savior to personal dignity, yet all together present enough for her to accept. "my one, single, itty bitty, teeny tiny rule is," _crack_ , "never," _lash,_ "say," _slap, lash, crack, lash, lash,_ "no!"

panting, aching, pleading breaths- it's all he knows. that, and that _stupid_ accent she takes on next. "surely, you haven't forgotten that! surely, you have not! why, love, i'd 'ave to punish you if you did! tell me, tell me you remember my extra-special-forget-me-not-golden-super-duper rule, togami-love!"

her feet move both to support herself; the hardwood gains a wet circle of saliva, but at least he's restricted in soliloquy no longer.

"you talk too much."

wrong answer.

so, so deliciously wrong.

his glasses fly leftward from the force at which her palm claims his cheek. he'd not know it her hand, thought it sting of whip instead, had the scraping fingernails not lingered. all of her weight, what meager it is, falls atop him all at once, and around his throat circles those beautiful ten digits like a belt drawn to its first hole.

"silly!" she croons, still smiling as she gags him into submission. "first you say _no_ to your darling junko-chan, and now you tell her she talks too much? rude! rude, rude, so fucking _rude!_ you've got some _nerve_ talking to me that way, ultimate bastard!"

he struggles just _mildly_ against her; but he can feel her panties soaking against his nude thigh, and she's riding, forward, back, like she's entitled to it, like she owns him. which she does; owns his wallet, owns his attention, own his cock, when she so pleases.

then she's off him all at once, and he doesn't understand how it is she's darted so quickly up into her queenly posture atop the bed, but she's beckoning him forward, and he's a fool for those fingers and those legs and that smile. he crawls to her, because he's a fool, togami byakuya is a fool for enoshima junko and her stupid, lovely little porcelain doll expression of ardor.

"my shoes, sweetheart," she orders without an order, as if what's wanted is obvious. togami makes to lift a hand to her laces, then rewrites his movement code, and goes straight for them with his teeth. she claps her palms together just once before her. "i didn't even have to ask! what a smart little man you're growing up to be, togami-chan!"

two knee highs thud to the floor not far off. she curls her freed toes, ten little nails all done up a striking scarlet, and laughs as she draws him forward with those nimble legs of hers. they curl at the knee around his shoulders. she twirls his blonde cutely around an index.

"i like you kneeling like this for me, togami, really, i do-" when her laugh is genuine, it's an adorable little snort of amusement, but this one's gelid and echoes against the bedroom windows. temptress, she'd call herself. togami thinks she's just a slut.

but in the next moment, there's a hand curled around the sensitive hairs at the nape of his neck, and his mouth is full of pussy, so, really, he's not one to judge.

drool gurgles past her lips and her eyes roll back and she's just _gaga_ for him and the way he works his tongue about her throbbing sex. she plays courteous in permitting him a pause for breath, just long enough to slip the skirt from her supermodel legs, then curls him in anew and resumes scraping her acrylics against his the back of his neck.

"oh, byakuya- i just can't control myself around you!" she giggles and she _shrieks_ \- not as one would out of pleasure, but as the psychopath's unsuspecting victim in the fourth installment of a horror flick franchise, and his startled jump is almost enough to make her peak right there. satin ruffles around her when she lays back on the comforters, hands clawing in frenetic grasps to burst her top open. her chest spills over the top of a cupsize too slight. this time her scream is not a lunatic's howl. she _moans_ , like a normal fucking person does while their boyfriend eats them out, and togami rewards her by lapping her clit like mad until she's left writhing. her come is the flavor of a demon puking in your mouth and day old chewing gum. he coughs it up audibly, which is just so damn _rude!,_ that she can't believe her eyes.

"i give you the immense privilege of eating my jizz, and you have the audacity to _spit?_ " her toes collide with the front of his nose. "good girls swallow, togami-chan, don't you know?"

he swats away the foot; he's had enough of being stepped on for one day. makes to stand, has his knees kicked out from under him, should've seen it coming.

but the pair of tits suddenly close to suffocating him are so nice that he finds it a vice to grouse. junko's on top of him again, naked besides her bra and garter around a thigh, and his crotch throbs fast as all hell when she slips the former off.

"togami, togami, togami," tchs from her tongue. " _what_ am i going to do with you? you don't obey any commands i give. it's almost like you're _begging_ to be punished." eyes blue as skydiving catch the light. her crooked smile is one thieved straight from a coyote's maw, because junko just _loves_ when such flawless ideas devour her mind. "begging- oo, i like the sound of that, don't you?"

and togami, because he's a such a sucker, says back, "no. not at all."

and junko, because she's the product of lucifer's one night stand with a rabid jackal, _frowns._

and that's how the esteemed togami byakuya ends up on his hands and knees, begging like a little bitch to be fucked.

because it's much better than the alternative of castration she'd offered.

"... _please,"_ drips disdain from each letter, and he doesn't even know why he bothers, as he needn't be clairvoyant to predict her response.

"i can't hear you, byakuya, dear. louder, please, i _implore_ thee to speak up."

glare set to the floor, he shifts ever slight, works up his voice. "please, oh, please, almighty enoshima. i _definitely_ want it and am _absolutely_ _not_ speaking facetiously right now."

her arms fold. "wrong! i like the ring to that almighty _thang,_ though, but let's stick with the usual, hm?"

if his sigh were any louder, it'd be an entity all its own. " _please_. all i want is- no, no, i _need_ it. please, _please_ fuck my filthy, unworthy self... _princess."_

the curves of his body wriggle in needy little waves, and his dripping cock stains the area beneath it glistening, and his throat is so _dry_ and the walls around him so _tight_.

the princess herself graces him with a glance downward (because _everyone_ is below her, metaphorically always, literal currently). "why should i?"

" _because_ ," sneaks between his teeth, "i... _ugh-_ i'm so... _horny..._ for you, i can hardly stand it."

his bottom lip's a vagabond; it takes refuge slipped beneath his incisors, and he gnaws and looks up at her sickly sweet and pleading and he really is the most pathetically handsome thing she's ever had sprawled on the ground before her. her pussy's positively _drenching_ the comforter right now, slick and aching for that cock of his to work its magic up inside her. she bounces a little at the idea before gripping togami much too tightly around one bicep to drag him onto the bed. he lays down, thighs spread open coquettishly. junko wonders who's responsible for the brutal homicide of modesty, then hops eager as ever to seat herself on the thick heat sprung stiffly upward. togami can't help his groan, can't help the stars bleeding into his eyes and falling thickly from his tongue, and her kiss is hot and wet and her lipstick tastes like peach and awful memories he's yet to make.

when she chokes him this time, he isn't sure he'll live long enough to experience his orgasm. her hands are a fucking vise constricting the bob to his throat. he _froths_ when she squeezes tighter, and she laps up his spit like nutrients, screwing him into bliss twice over. the sight of her breasts jouncing so methodically makes his head spin. or, perhaps it's the asphyxiation; he's too deep in her to be analytical.

"oh, togami-kun, _oo!_ yes, _yes!_ that's just _pah-fect!_ " flattery's her way of apologizing, he knows this for a fact. she relents the choking just to hear his _beautiful_ gasp for oxygen, heaves tumbling after, a ludicrously winsome symphony behind the soundtrack of her splendid little moans.

he tears himself from her hot tightness to come across her thighs, and she's wrapped in similar satisfaction, if the oozing mewls are any indication. the noisy rush of her heartbeat in her ears lays her to rest, each knee bent and spread languidly open. togami presses them closed with a nudging of his feet, then hisses at his attempt to relax; the glaring pink of whip wounds litter his skin- and, good god, do they ache. junko kitten licks one on his tummy once she's enough composure to move again. he hates her, and he hates her stupid kisses scattering over his navel.

hates her so damn much, he thinks he'll voice it; earn himself discipline enough to feed his greedy masochist's heart.

enoshima junko for certain is the perfect woman.


End file.
